Falls On Me
by anyadoll
Summary: post Stan By Me with a little bit of the finale as well...a take on the emotions and how to deal when everything is falling apart in their world.


**A/N:** My take on "Stan By Me," since everyone else is doing their own versions…and I'm still working on 'Killing Time,' trying to make lengthy chapters so just keep watch, and oddly enough, I have another idea as well, which just came to me while watching a show that has nothing to do with IPS. You'll all figure it out when it's posted; it will be in the author note. I've been on the move all week, so I'm really sorry, getting ready to head back to college in a few short weeks. For my story purpose, I have no clue if a WITSEC officer can actually be in WITSEC…so just pretend, and if you do know, then tell me in the reviews—I try to be as factual to the show as possible, give or take. "Shattered (Turn This Car Around)" lyrics by O.A.R.

**Falls On Me**

_How many times can I break till I shatter?  
Over the line can't define what I'm after  
I always turn the car around  
All that I feel is the realness I'm faking  
Taking my time but it's time that I'm wasting  
Always turn the car around_

So close.

So close had she come to being physically assaulted, raped, killed, all because she was the _wrong_ sister. It was funny and twisted and ironic, Mary thought as she'd waited for the bullet to enter her skull in that dark basement all alone with her sister's boyfriend's body still carelessly left bleeding; she always knew her little sister would be the death of her.

Just…not so literally.

It was nearing four in the morning, and as her bruised and battered face bobbed in the midst of giving another statement for the umpteenth time, Stan put an end to the barrage of questions with a severe look so cold the officer halted, stunned by the deathly glare. Mary could barely muster the faint smirk she felt at the younger officer's reaction. She had no energy, no will to stand; to walk, to defend herself, to speak…there would be time for that later. No cohesive thought crossed her mind. Everything was out of focus. Stan muttered something to Marshall, who had yet to vanish from her side or sight since she collapsed in his arms in the drug dealer's basement.

After a flurry of nods and squinting and deciding facial expressions, Marshall slid his arm around her waist, coaxing her up. She gave no protest. Unsteady in her movements, she gave into his fierce, solid hold, letting him all but carry her out of the building to his car.

Pride was more of a personality trait than an emotion for Mary; pride had also been left in a basement, with all of its possibilities of death and assault and revenge and conning wit. Pride had left her soul when she saw the folder of her family's dubious, long standing crimes of idiocy and insanity and desperation wide open on Marshall's desk, amongst Stan's and Bobby D's long cold coffee mugs, for all the world to see.

She was too tired for even the sting of tears in her eyes. She sniffed slightly, trying to hide the effects of the day. Marshall put his keys in the ignition, starting the engine. She was grateful, and she would surely tell him later, for not pushing the issues that she herself wasn't completely sure of yet.

He wouldn't ask her if she was okay. He wouldn't push her about Brandi and why she seemed incredibly, sadly, completely distant at the moment. He'd learned long ago that pushing Mary pushed her away. She would talk when she was ready…especially after tonight.

"No," she stated firmly, breaking the silence that had settled over the car since they'd left their office. Marshall glanced over, confused as he stopped at the corner of the block her house resided. "Turn around. Please. Go anywhere but here."

She couldn't go home. Couldn't be in her own home, with a sister that got her kidnapped, with the mother that had laid years of spite and pent up blame on her merely a morning ago, and pretend everything was all sunshine and rainbows. She hated them in this moment.

Marshall didn't ask. He turned right, headed nowhere in the opposite direction. Her eyes stared fixedly out the window, jaw set and cheeks wet, he noticed now in the bright light of the full moon. He had a full tank of gas, and he'd drive until there was nothing left if that's what she needed.

Two hours later, the finality of her kidnapping, her near violation, the fact that she'd killed a man and watched another be killed in front of her, and her mother's dim awareness of how much her words had hurt came to a head. Marshall, driving at a steady, under-the-speed limit, with a wary, consistent peripheral glance at his partner, pulled over abruptly when he saw the catch in her profile as she blanched immensely.

Mary threw the passenger side door open in a flourish, leaning out, straining against the seat belt as the bile burned in her throat. She had nothing in her stomach but the sickening taste of acid, coughing. Marshall placed his hand between her shoulder blades, gently massaging her neck, letting her gather herself. She wiped her mouth with the back of her shaking hand, slowly sitting back upright. This time she didn't hide the tears.

She hugged her arms tightly around her stomach, sobbing uncontrollably. Her forehead rested against the dashboard. Marshall was angry at the officer that had released her information, her sister for being vague and uncaring in the face of losing Mary, at himself for not catching on…and mostly because there was nothing he could do. He got out of the car, standing in the middle of the desert with rage burning in his veins for everything that had happened. It was rare that he didn't know how to help her. Rare that he could not find a way to comfort her—even in times when she didn't want his support.

He looked up at the clear night sky, full of its lovely blinking stars billions of light years away. How could a place so beautiful be full of such horrible people? Disease, addiction, abuse, prejudice, and hatred…thinking humanity had evolved when so little had changed in thousands of years of human evolution.

He screamed. Whether it was for the frustration of not knowing where Mary had been or if they'd find her in time, alive; for what he knew could have happened to her, and what he would have done to the man if Mary hadn't killed him, or if, simply, that he had been helpless. He'd wanted to cry and laugh and kiss her after she'd swung the shovel at Stan, staring back and recognizing it was her salvation. The yells of aggravation echoed back at him within the desert air, until his voice cracked and he knew he'd hate himself for it tomorrow.

He was startled when she placed her palm tentatively between his own shoulder blades. Marshall turned, quickly catching her up in a fierce embrace. She returned it with exhausted vigor, her face wet against his neck. She still shook, he noted.

"I want to talk," Mary whispered brokenly. She had too. "Things are going to get bad Marshall, really, really bad. And I'm afraid," she paused, closing her eyes against the wrenching thoughts. She knew what was going to happen. "I'm afraid…I'm going to have to make a choice. And I don't want to make that choice. It's not fair."

He stroked her hair, trying to keep her calm.

"Brandi narced on that drug dealer and her boyfriend already paid the consequences. They know who I am now, they know I'm not dead and they'll come after me," she said bitterly. "She turned herself in, in one way or another, and if she doesn't give an official statement I'll drag it out of her myself. But that man is still out there. I think Jinx knows what Brandi did too…"

"Mary, what are you getting at," he didn't really ask so much as say, but had a disturbing sense of dread that he knew the direction she was intending to lead him.

"If we don't find him, she's got to go into the program. And Jinx."

She hesitated then, clutching tightly to his suit jacket. "And maybe me. I can't afford to see them hurt my family, no matter what they've said and done. And I don't want them to come after you. That would kill me."

"You sound like you're writing your last will and testament," Marshall replied, but without humor. "You sound like you don't think there are any more alternatives."

She laughed stiffly. "What else is there to do? What alternatives? I see it as two choices Marshall, and I don't know what to choose. I either go with my family as a witness, or never see you or Stan or my career again, or I stay and never see my family again…"

He'd pulled away from her slightly to see how her decision played out. He couldn't lose her, and if she left, he'd feel that missing presence like a lost appendage for life. Life. He would never see her again if she did leave. He couldn't handle that. He knew Stan wouldn't take it well either, and that the purpose of the drive was for her to work things out in her deluded mind. Before he'd realized what he said, or the implication of such, he said resolutely, "If you go, I go too."

"Jesus, Marshall, no," she said, shaking her head and biting her lip. "No. No, you have a family history of U.S. Marshal's and your family is still normal and not contaminated to the point of having to actually be a witness in the program they work for."

"What does that matter?" he challenged. She tilted her head to the side, analyzing him.

"It matters to me. I won't be the reason you ruin your life. I won't be the reason you never see _your _family again. Mine is already screwed. I'm not taking you down with me. I…I just—I just…I can't…I care about you too much." Her shoulders fell, weight of her decisions and inner arguments bearing down forcefully.

"I care about you too. I wouldn't say I'd go otherwise. You say you don't want to see me get hurt…but that would hurt a lot more. At least if I was with you, I could make sure you were okay."

"That's not a good enough reason to leave everything behind, Marshall. Not everything we've all worked so hard for."

"It won't be worth it without you. None of it. If you go, Mary, I'm coming with you. I'll resign. You know I will. You know I won't break my word…and this…I would never break."

She had no tears left. She wasn't a U.S. Marshal right now. She was a woman who'd fought for her life, her dignity, and her reputation with every fiber of her being. She was her sister's keeper; her mother's scapegoat for a lifetime of regret and broken dreams; the seven year old girl whose father left them without a word; the best friend to one person, and one person only.

She gave a small, slight nod. She didn't accept his proposition in the least.

"You're just assuming anyways. Stop. For tonight, don't think about it," Marshall said evenly, knowing her doubts. She wasn't in a good place.

And she wasn't. She felt disgusting, wanting nothing more than to wash the day's events off of her body and out of her mind. But she didn't want to go home yet. She wanted to stay this way forever—in the middle of the desert, in the silence, without judgment and ridicule and obligation—without fear.

"Do I ruin everything?" she asked, voice small and distant. "Is it all my fault? Did I push her to do it? Did I deserve it?"

"What do you mean?" He pulled away slightly, holding her an elbows length away.

"Brandi. Did I push too hard, not enough, treat her…I don't know. So much pressure, on me, so much pressure. Obligations. He told me to look out for them, and all they did was take, and make it so hard to love them. I just…I can't do it anymore. I can't take it. I can't take the lying and cleaning up after their messes…why couldn't he see that? Why didn't he…why didn't he take me with him?" the tears returned, and Marshall couldn't begin to understand her twisted statement. And then it slowly occurred to him; her father. The one person she'd held the best connection with.

He pulled her close again. "Mary…sometimes…the people that we love the most are the people that we have to leave…to keep them safe. We understand that better than anyone. It doesn't mean they love you any less. It just means…they can't watch us suffer the same fate as they did. Parents, especially, inherently, always want better for their children. Your father…he saw something in you that needed to be protected, that he wanted you to live for."

"But did I live up to it? I'm not anything he wanted me to be…"

"No…you're human. I think if he was here, and I think he knew, that maybe you didn't need him, to be okay. Look how you've turned out…strong, smart, brave…who would see that as a flaw?"

"I just think I failed though. I was a mother and a father and a sister to them, because I to be. I had no choice, Marshall. You know that now, you saw the file," she spat out at the indignity of the FBI agent that pulled her records.

"So I saw what you think defines your family. So I know you are not perfect. I never thought anyone, not you, not your mother, not myself or Stan, was perfect. We do the best that we can, Mary. We learn. We break. We start over," Marshall swallowed the sadness he felt. "We learn to let people in, we learn to love them for who they are, and who they become."

She was silent a long time, taking in his words and his voice and the look in his eyes. Through everything they'd been through, through the trials and the horrible words and skewed possibilities, the lies she'd told everyone, the worst of which she told to herself. She was not a failure. She was a human. "You won't leave me will you."

It wasn't a question in the least.

The beginnings of a smile in the brutality of the last day's events began to shine through, blissfully, beautifully. There would be hard times ahead, dark endings, bad people with worse agendas, people that would bring them down, hurt them, especially those closest. Hearts broke and hearts mended. They were stronger than they knew. They always would be.

He held her face with his hands, pushing quiet tears away. He leaned in, kissing her forehead lightly.

"It never crossed my mind," he said simply.

She gave him a watery smile, the best she could come up with. "If I ever had to start over…really, truly start over…" she trailed, gripping his hands, trying to convey the weight of her admittance. "I would want you there, with me."

On the tip of her toes, she quickly pressed a kiss to his lips. She had her answer, he had his. Whatever would happen to her and her family, he would be there. Always.

In the middle of the dark desert, in the middle of the darkest day they'd ever experienced, the beginning of a new one didn't seem as far off anymore.

Not when they were together.

end.

It's belated, I know, but I couldn't resist. After watching the finale, I rearranged a bit and well...yea.


End file.
